


Puzzle Pieces

by jillyfae



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: E-mail, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Prompt Fic, Protective Siblings, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-16 03:57:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12335037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jillyfae/pseuds/jillyfae
Summary: It's hard to know how to fit into a new galaxy, (how to welcome visitors into your home), when you have no idea what the final picture will be; but that doesn't mean it's not worth trying.Interstitials, character studies, prompt fics, etc.





	1. waiting for a kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [for servantofclio](http://faejilly.tumblr.com/post/166272911828)

It was difficult to know what was too much to say, when or where, aliens and romance and taboo, and Jaal hadn’t meant to say he wanted to devour her out loud, or at least not out loud here, not out loud _yet_ , just in case that was not a thing she wanted to hear outside her quarters, but her breath caught and her eyes widened and she was so beautiful he almost kissed her right there, almost pulled her to him, almost let them both fall to the mat still there against the wall in the lab with the door open and Cora and Vetra’s voices bouncing off the walls just barely out of sight, Peebee’s hollow echo over the comm shifting and dancing above their words.

Her smile was small and private and just for him, and he could see the warmth in her eyes, so lovely now, for all he’d thought them so strange at first, too pale and dark in turn. She shook her head, her hair shifting, and he distracted himself with that instead, with lifting his hand to catch a few strands between his fingers for a faint tug, a hum between his lips as her smile widened, _her joy is my joy,_ before letting her go.

She lingered for another breath, still smiling, still beautiful, and then Drack’s voice joined the rest outside and she sighed, and turned, and he watched each stride as she stepped away.

_Hate to see her go but love to watch her leave?_

Liam had laughed as he asked that yesterday, and now Jaal understood what he meant.

He had to watch her leave several times that day, over and over, each time catching the shine of her eyes, the hope in her smile before there was another email, another question from Suvi or Gil or Cora or the Nexus or a colony or _Kadara;_ he failed entirely at not shuddering when that one came in.

There was always another task for the ship, inventory or armory or med-bay, another potential adaptation to a gun or a shield generator, or even dashing off with a laugh to chase her _pets,_ the pyjak trilling as it pretended to hide behind a ladder.

Jaal briefly considered attempting to hide behind a ladder himself, if only to hear that laugh again.

Not that he’d spent his day trailing along behind her, not that he wouldn’t be content with such a day, not that he could think of a better way to spend the rest of his life, but he had work as well, here in the Bay instead of his usual lab: repairs to make, maintenance to perform, more of Liam’s jokes to listen to, to try and figure out.

He wasn’t getting any better at it, but Liam didn’t seem to mind, and always had another one to tell. And another, even as Vetra groaned from across the Bay.

He lost track of the jokes as he worked, heard Liam’s voice occasionally in the background without quite managing to turn the sound into words. He’d _almost_ figured out a new grip; he’d gotten some very good observation in on human hands lately.

“And what’s that smile for?”

He looked up to see her standing beside his work bench.

“You."

It was a simple answer to an easy question, but even so he saw her breath catch, the jerk in the soft skin at the base of her throat, and he wanted to cry for her, for all the times no one would share their heart, their honesty,with such a beautiful soul as hers.

He wanted to let his fingers rest against that delicate stretch of skin to feel it happen again the next time he called her beautiful, wanted to wrap his arms around her and never let go.

He wanted to kiss her.

She kissed him first, and he breathed her in at last, her warmth against his mouth and her fingertips soft against his face. “You are a revelation,” she whispered.

“A good one, I hope?”

“The best.” She smiled, and he ached with how much he loved her. “Maybe this time I should devour you first?”

He had lifted her in his arms and carried her three steps towards the doors before his tools finished rattling against the bench, and her new laugh was much better than the one she’d gifted the pyjak.


	2. "strings"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [inktober fill](http://faejilly.tumblr.com/post/166362770943): Jaal POV introspection

They are all so alone.

It is hard to fathom, hard to even articulate the ways in which it confuses, because it seems so very obvious that something must be wrong.

But they don’t think it so, they think it _normal_ , and so he tries, again and again, to figure out _how_.

How can you only have one mother, one father? One sibling, one partner, only a couple strong ties to your heart?

How can you walk away from the few you have, how can you ignore the pull, the tear, the loss?

How can you know how to stand for yourself, if you’re only ever pulled in one direction? How can you know what’s right, if you can’t feel that tug from all around you, brothers and sisters and cousins and mothers and friends and lovers and partners, all different, all true?

Because for all it makes Jaal want to stumble, makes something deep and dark inside his thoughts wail to imagine being a stone in a field instead of a part of a wall, it doesn’t frighten these Nexus aliens, who traveled alone into the dark just because they _could._

Even the kett, as terrible and horrifying as they are, are always part of a greater whole, always seeking to connect to _more,_  always more.

An abomination, but never alone.

He can’t imagine being alone. It would break any Angara, such isolation -- even Evfra holds tight to the lines for each member of his Resistance. 

But it doesn’t break these new aliens.

It doesn’t break _her._

The Pathfinder, _(Maia,_  such a lovely name, he can feel the tug in his heart when he thinks it, the tie to her so narrow, so tender, new and fragile, so taut it feels each time he breathes like it might break, but it doesn’t, it doesn’t, it endures), the Pathfinder always steps forward, straight and steady, and he doesn’t know _how._ He is afraid, and proud, and afraid again, because what if he’s wrong, and she doesn’t need those ties like he does? Maybe she’ll never feel a tug to connect her to the Angara, to their worlds, maybe she’ll never truly feel at home here in Heleus.

Maybe she’ll never feel the pull back towards _him._  

But what if he’s right, and she does need them? What if she doesn’t have enough, her father dead, her sibling almost lost, maybe she won’t grip tight enough to hold new ones to her until they’re strong, and she is pulled awry, she steps aside, or falls...

They’ll all fall to the Scourge, or to the Kett, to the Nexus or the Roekaar, all or none or both or only one, one loose thread, pulled too hard until they all unravel.

If she was Angara, he would take her home to his family, have them hold her tight until she cried, until she let them in, until she felt her heart tie her to a new family, until she was  _tavetaan_.

Until she knew she would never be alone again.

She is not Angara.

He still thinks of her as _tavetaan._

He hopes that will be enough to help her, through whatever she must do next.

He hopes it will be enough to help him watch over her as she does.


	3. Dear Morgan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> because I have a weakness for epistolary fic; from Maia to her twin (previously published as _Whispers in the Dark_ but I'm putting the ME:A stuff together)
> 
> also Morgan is non-binary, rather than "Male Ryder | Scott" but we do what we can with the tags that we have

> _[audio log_  
>  _sent from: Ryder, Maia_  
>  _to: Ryder, Morgan_  
>  _private archive: SAM]_

*sound of rustling, shifting*

Morgan -

I have never lied to you.

I still haven't.

But.

*long pause*

Ack, I don't know what to say, I don't - maybe I'll write something next time and have SAM read it to you? That might be less weird.

No it won't. Different weird?

Might be good enough, different.

I mean.

*sound of fingers tapping against a hard surface*

There's all sorts of research that says people in comas _hear_  what's going on around them on some level, old and storied and recent, anecdotal and scientific, and SAM can play this for you so no one else can hear it, even if we don't want to risk trying to talk to you again like we did via the implants.

But SAM asked me why I lied to you. SAM knows I don't lie to people very often, and never to you. And I didn't!

I don't think.

Maybe you'll think, when you wake up? I mean yeah, I didn't tell you about the Scourge and our garden worlds are trying to kill us and aliens are trying to kill us and something created a giant evil space cloud that's poisoning everything but does that matter?

Shut up, I can hear you sighing, you know. I didn’t want to make it too complicated, you are in a coma. This is home now, whether Habitat 7 was ready and waiting for us or not.

Golden really isn't the point though, sib. You just gotta wake up and see it. Andromeda is more amazing, more incredible than we ever imagined. You never needed safe, not like Dad kept trying to find for us. You wanted adventure even more than I did. That's why we came, isn't it, even more than for him?

And you'll get it, whenever you wake up. There's more than I need, I'll share. I promise.

It's so beautiful. Everything here is so amazing. Terrifying, and brutal, and we're all pretty much half a step away from dying most of the time, but it doesn’t matter! I know, you’re laughing again, that hopeless helpless sad shaking one you do when I’m being ridiculous, of course it matters, everyone deserves a safe place to call home and somehow I’m responsible for making that happen?

Everything is impossible.

But I wouldn't go back, even if I could.

Well. Maybe I'd try and wake up a year early? Get you and Dad here with me, awake and aware and everyone together.

That would be perfect.

~~Hell if we're going for perfect, why don't I go back six hundred years and put Mom in stasis before she dies and tell SAM to figure out how to fix her on the trip and then we'd all be here together?~~

Delete that last sentence SAM, send the rest.

_[/end recording, transmitting]_

* * *

> _[text file_    
>  _created by: Ryder, Maia]_

I'm writing this one for you, Morgan.

Just for you.

My voice echoes, a little, in my bunk. It's too large, too open. Too empty.

Dad made me Pathfinder, made me responsible for finding a home, finding a safe place, finding all the pieces we're going to need to put together to build something.

But my first job wasn't new, wasn't _finding_.

No one trusted me to do something new, so instead I got to clean up after something old.

Not even clean up, just.

Make sure they didn't forget?

_Theo, Gordanus, Thysa, Porter, Tegan, Amira, Darin ..._

I never even met them, gave their names back to the Nexus as if I could just pass them along, as if ... 

As if they weren't mine now. I have to carry them, stand under their weight until I find a place to put them down, until they have a  _home._

I've never led more than a  _squad_ , Morgan, how am I supposed to carry 40,000 people?

Hells.

 _Tempest_ herself is almost too much, and she's just the tip of the iceberg, the first line of the story, the ...

The tip of the spear.

I can't look back or I won't be able to do this.

I don't know that I will be able to do this, but I can't stop, I have to ~~... find a p~~

I just can't stop, right?

I miss you.

> _[save file_  
>  _send: Ryder, Morgan_  
>  _private archive (copy): SAM]_

* * *

> _[audio log_  
>  _sent from: Ryder, Maia_  
>  _to: Ryder, Morgan_  
>  _private archive: SAM]_

Hey Morgan. Sometimes I'm an idiot, and forget the important things.

So here it is, the only one that matters. I love you.

You're gonna love the sky here, when you wake up.

Sweet dreams until then.

End recording, SAM. Can you put that one a loop for them, so they hear it every night? Thanks.

_[/end recording, transmitting]_


End file.
